


Steady Me

by Katuary



Series: Choice and Chance [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rite of Tranquility, discussion of mental triggers, past self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27238165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: After Evelyn discovers the locked shed filled with Tranquil skulls on a disastrous trip to Redcliffe, she is thrown violently back into her memories of her time in the Circle. Cullen knows what it’s like to be haunted by past hurts.
Relationships: Cole & Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Mage Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Choice and Chance [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445449
Kudos: 14





	Steady Me

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mentions of past child abuse, mentions of past sexual abuse, mentions of self harm

Evelyn burrowed under a mass of blankets on her sprawling bed, skin crawling, face burning, nails biting into her forearms. No matter how hard she tried, her mind insisted on returning to the storage shed in Redcliffe. Rows upon rows of skulls stolen from Tranquil mages to serve the Venatori.

Maker, she'd been _looking through them_ for _months_. As if the skulls were simple tools to be used, mundane as her staff. She had treated them like the mages and templars in her Circle had treated the living Tranquil: assign a task, move on, think no further.

She swallowed hard, tasting bile. She should have _known_.

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have helped them."

Cole. He had less a habit of appearing unexpectedly out of thin air since Varric helped him with the White Spire templar, but he still moved more quietly than any person Evelyn had known. Normally, she would have gently chastised him for reading her thoughts, but she couldn't find the heart. That he was doing it at all was a clear sign he was just as strongly disturbed as she was. His voice had shaken back in Redcliffe, realizing what the skulls meant as Evelyn read the Venatori note on the desk. 

_They couldn't fight back when it happened. They couldn't ask for help. I would have heard. I would have helped. I would have stopped it._

_Pain, choking fear. I did everything they asked. They're coming. I can't hurt them. I won't. But I won't let them take me._

_I'm sorry. I'll find who did this. I will stop them._

It had nearly been too much for him, but still, here he was, trying to help as always. 

"It's all right that you can't talk," he continued doggedly, "You're safe here."

Safe here, now that she was back home. Truth be told, she scarcely remembered even traveling back to Skyhold. Cassandra must have led her horse all the way from Redcliffe. 

"They're not angry with you for hurting. They're worried."

Of course they were. Their Inquisitor, their _leader_ , had a mental break in the middle of a mission. How could she be expected to defeat Corypheus if she couldn't hold herself together? Was she so naïve to think she would never come across such atrocities in her work?

Evelyn's stomach twisted. How could they trust her when she made such wild misjudgments of character? This was Alexius' doing, and she'd had the naïveté, the _stupidity_ , to be merciful in her sentencing. She'd forced people he'd hurt to supervise him as he continued research. She'd as well as told them to ignore the suffering he'd inflicted on their friends, how he'd intended to bind them in servitude by making them believe they had no other choice. People she knew. Mages who trusted her.

"They want to share the burden. You're no longer alone."

Her fingertips grew warmer, and she stuffed her hands under her arms. 

"I _can't_ ," she choked. Her cheeks burned, and she forcefully rent her instinctive reach for the Fade. She would _not_ lose control. "Just leave me alone. _Please_ , Cole."

As if in answer, someone knocked at the door to her quarters. 

"Evelyn?"

_Cullen._

Cole turned toward her. "Do you still want to be alone? I can ask him to leave."

Yes. No. She didn't know. She scrambled out of bed, stumbling over the few bits of armor she'd possessed the presence of mind to remove, and made her way to the chamber door. She would be able to reassure him without cracking as long as she kept it shut and locked.

"I'm..." She cleared her throat. "I'll be all right."

A perceptibly skeptical silence followed, but he didn't try the door. "Cassandra told me what you found. I wanted you to know I'm here. If you need..." He was grasping for words again, and Evelyn heard his self-directed scoff when he found none of the eloquence he hoped for. "Anything," he finished, "I'm here if you need anything."

She said nothing. What could she tell him when _she_ hadn't the faintest clue what she needed?

But his first retreating footstep jolted her to action. 

The door was open nearly before he'd fully turned to leave. He looked over his shoulder and the lump in her throat rose again. His face fell.

"Evelyn? You..."

"Please stay." She took in a sharp breath, trying to stave off a fresh wave of tears at the concern on his face. "Just for a while. It's..." Her voice trailed into a choked sob, and his arms were around her before she could manage another word.

"Whatever you need," he reminded her, "I'm here."

She nodded, fingers curled into the fur around his shoulders and face buried in the crook of his neck. Their armor didn't allow her near as close as she needed, but she couldn't bring herself to move. This was the closest she'd felt to herself since Cole picked that shed's lock. 

"Should I...would you rather be upstairs?"

It took her a moment to respond, ultimately with another stiff nod since she didn't yet trust her voice. Forcing herself to part from him was difficult, but the distance was blessedly brief; his hand rested gently in the small of her back for support as they climbed the stairs. She peered around the room when they reached the top, but Cole was, unsurprisingly, gone before they arrived.

She stumbled over a stray metal pauldron on the way in, mumbling an apology as Cullen caught her before she could fall. It was embarrassing how little she had managed to remove before diving into bed earlier; she still wore her vambraces, and had only loosened her chestplate enough to ease her breath. She tried to finish unbuckling those last bits of armor, but her stiff fingers fumbled at the fastenings. Cullen rested a hand over hers, gently stilling her frantic motions. 

"Allow me?"

She nodded again, swallowing to clear her throat. "You should do yours too. It makes you uncomfortable otherwise."

He paused halfway through undoing the buckles on her chestplate and frowned. "I...all right."

She sat on the bed in her tunic and trousers, waiting as he obligingly removed his armor to match her. Her hands twisted into one another in her lap, nails snagging rougher bits of skin, until she caught herself, horrified. She must _never_ draw her own blood. They would ignore bruises, but never an unexplained cut. They would...

She pressed her hands firmly between her thighs, a shaking laugh trickling from her lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I can usually handle this myself, but..."

Cullen dropped to his knees before her and offered his hand. She took it, squeezing harder than she'd intended. She faintly worried she would scratch him, since neither of them still wore their gloves, but the thought evaporated when he gently squeezed her hand in return.

"Evelyn," he said softly, "It's all right." She met his eyes, paralyzed with fear, thinking she'd somehow hurt him, that she'd meet his gaze and find pain, but...no. Nothing but warmth and worry.

She realized it was a stretch to reach her from the floor, or it would be in time, so she awkwardly shuffled to join him on the rug. She kept hold of his hand as she tucked her knees to her chest and melted into his side. His free arm curled around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. 

"I'm sorry," she tried again, but she felt Cullen shake his head.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

The words drifted in one ear and out the other, though merely hearing his voice helped. She was safe while he was here. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

* * *

She was unsure exactly how long she stayed there, shivering intermittently in his arms, hearing what little of his words weren’t made indistinct by the buzzing in her ears. She was certain they both missed prior commitments. Josephine was likely already defusing the situation as Evelyn herself hid in her quarters, useless. 

To make matters worse, it was near twilight. She tensed anew as the sun slowly set outside her window, darkening the room. A servant would have normally come by to check on her, but she was certain Cassandra had passed on the message that Evelyn was not to be disturbed.

"Evelyn?"

She released a brittle laugh. "It's silly. I'm all right." She forced a tight smile. "Just...I...don't care for the dark. They had this room back in Ostwick and I..." She instinctively reached for the Fade, barely brushing it to be sure she still could. "I should..." She rose abruptly and strode to the fireplace. Where was the flint and steel Josephine used when she showed her how to light it? 

She frowned and changed course abruptly, targeting the corner with her desk instead. She dug through the mass of papers there with growing urgency. It _had_ to be there somewhere. Why did she never keep anything in a place that made the least scrap of sense?

"What are you looking for?" 

"Flint." Evelyn didn't turn her head, intent on her rummaging, "Josephine gave it to me, but..." What? She couldn't find it? Couldn't remember how to use it if she did?

"Would the candles help?"

She finally turned to see Cullen lighting the free-standing candelabra near her bed, having found her missing kit. Of course he would know how to properly light a fire; he didn't have access to the same shortcut she did. She nodded, giving a shaky smile of embarrassment.

"I suppose that makes more sense than building a fire," she admitted. Quicker, too. She sat on the long edge of her mattress, and, once her fingers were bathed in the flickering pool of light from the fresh candles, her chest eased. Only just enough to slow her breath again. She looked up at Cullen with an unsteady smile. "Thank you."

He said nothing, and his concerned frown stayed firmly in place. She saw a thousand questions pass over his face, but he voiced none of them. Likely for the best. 

"Perhaps I should--"

"Stay," she interrupted quickly, "Just a little longer. I don't..." She took a deep breath to slow her words.

"As long as you need. Of course. I...wasn't sure if..."

"What?"

"...if I was making this more difficult for you."

She laughed weakly. "Just the opposite. It's easier with someone here. With you."

He settled uneasily on the bed next to her, keeping a small distance between them. He considered a long moment before he spoke again, and it was clear before he said a word the difficult question had merely been delayed.

"I hate to say anything," he began hesitantly, "but...you never cast when I'm with you."

"I...don't need to?"

His gaze darting tellingly to the mess she'd just made of her desk confirmed that it was a weak answer. "But you would if I weren't here."

She shrugged, knotting her hands together in her lap. "I suppose."

"Why don't you?"

"I didn't want you to notice, but..." Evelyn squeezed her hands firmly. There would be no avoiding the topic now. "I don't want to remind you that I _have_ magic. That I have something that hurt you."

 _"You_ wouldn't hurt me."

"Cullen..."

"I...care about you. _All_ of you. Your magic is as much a part of you as anything else. And I see you harming _yourself_ trying to keep that piece away from me."

"It _does_ hurt you," she countered, "Remember when I first tried helping with your headaches?" That was several weeks past now, but the terror in his frozen expression that day stood sharply in her mind. The way he'd braced himself, as if expecting a blow. 

She curled her arms around her knees and drew them to her chest. "I don't ever want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not. I _wasn't_. I..." He sighed, leaning closer to her. "It's difficult to explain."

She shook her head immediately. "You don't have to."

"I know." He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. She turned her head to look at him. "But I think this could help us both."

"When I said it sometimes feels as if I'm...there. Back in Kinloch." He tensed briefly, and she felt him shake his head. "Some things I know risk bringing back those memories. Enclosed spaces. Too many days without sleep. But others are...unexpected. When you first tried to help..." He stopped and winced. "I don't know how much you want to hear."

She shifted closer, lacing her fingers through his and pressing softly. Her head dropped to his shoulder, and she felt him relax. "Whatever you want to tell."

He hesitated again, long enough that she wondered if he would continue. "There was a desire demon. It took the form of a woman in the Circle I was...fond of. A mage. It tried everything it could think of to...to _tempt_ me by using her form, and when I didn't submit..."

He swallowed hard. "That was when it brought me back to see what it had done to the others. Or found some other punishment until it tried to break my mind again."

”When it tried to use her...it started small. Subtle touches, as if we’d been together for months. Brushing my hand or...holding my face as you did.”

_Oh._

"I hadn’t allowed anyone close like that since then. I didn’t know it would...I didn't expect..." He sighed. "Once you started talking, it was easier to keep everything separate."

“And now?” She reached for him with her free hand, fingertips lightly brushing his shoulder. “Is this all right?”

“Yes.” The word was hardly a breath, beautiful and simple. She smiled softly and splayed her hand fully on his chest.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” _  
_

His eyes crinkled in a warm smile, and he leaned down to softly kiss her. ”I will.”

Evelyn was quiet a moment, contemplative. “Is there anything that helps?” she asked, “When something _is_ too much.”

”Sometimes. If it isn’t...the worst it could become. I’ll remind myself where I am, what I’m doing. Aloud. It’s...something they taught me at the chantry in Greenfell. I don’t use it as often as I should.”

A fragment of his earlier words returned to her. _You’re in your quarters in Skyhold, Evelyn. You’re safe._

"That’s what you were doing," she mused, "For me."

”It was. I...wasn’t sure it would help.”

It had, or perhaps just having him nearby was a comfort. They didn’t exactly make a habit of spending nights in one another’s rooms. His staying for hours on end was a novelty in itself.

”The things you know of...” she started slowly, “Is there anything I shouldn’t do?”

“Not at the moment.” That was no clear answer and had come far too quickly. Evelyn opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, “What about you? Is there anything...”

“Cullen. You can tell me.”

He paused another eternity. “I doubt it would...” He meant to trail off again, but met her resolute expression with a nod. “Choking,” he said finally, “Scratching to the point of drawing blood.”

 _That_ was why he didn’t think it relevant as things stood; there was only one context Evelyn could think of where those actions could come into play between them, and neither of them had broached the topic of sex. That it came to mind _now_ of all times made her wish she hadn’t pushed, though she realized she would have second-guessed her every move otherwise.

She wasn’t eager to dive further into that topic tonight. Evelyn nodded and ignored her warming cheeks.

”Thank you.” She frowned. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

”Or you.”

That was both statement and gentle prompt; she had never answered his earlier question. “I...tend to keep a light on,” she began, “Or summon a wisp if there’s no lantern or candle. When it’s safe, that is. It’s different if I’m out on Inquisition business and need to conceal a position, but then I always have someone nearby and that’s...different. Easier.” 

She released a long breath. He had shared with her. Trusted her. He would understand.

"They had a room in Ostwick," she said slowly, "In the center of the tower. Windowless. The templars and Chantry mothers used it if you misbehaved. They...placed towels under the door to block any light. The whole Circle was warded to protect from as much exposure to demons as they could, but that room..." 

She clenched her jaw, careful not to bite her cheek. "It prevented you from regaining your mana. The templars did a cleanse on you before you were locked in and left you there as long as they saw fit. Mostly hours. Sometimes days."

"I was eight the first time. I asked too many questions about when my parents would visit. Refused to believe they weren't coming. They told me I was being defiant. I got..." She laughed hollowly. "I don't remember how long. It was less than a day; I think I only missed one meal."

She shrugged. "It's probably in my written record, if the Ostwick Circle still stands." Another weak laugh. "I don't see why it wouldn't be. They made nearly every mage there Tranquil after they heard what happened in Kirkwall." A shiver ran down her spine. "They considered it a kinder form of annulment, I think. Or they wanted to preserve our skills to use on rune crafting."

Cullen stayed quiet a long time.

Evelyn knew other Circles had their own ways of punishing wayward mages, especially children or those they didn't wish to make Tranquil immediately. The handful of Kirkwall mages she'd met told her how they'd been confined to their quarters for days at a time, even before the practice of making Harrowed mages Tranquil began. A Fereldan enchanter had spoken all-too-casually of a mage held in solitary confinement in Kinloch for a full year. That sort of cruelty was the farthest thing from unusual. Cullen would have also seen all of that firsthand. Participated.

She also knew just how young templars and mages were taken from their families, how the Chantry had sugarcoated the reality of life inside Circles to make the Order seem a noble calling, how the Chantry used the tacit threat of cutting off access to lyrium as a tool to prevent any templar from leaving without risking their life, all the lies and doubletalk, the selective drilling of verses of the Chant that suited their purposes...

She drifted the back of her fingers across their joined hands. He shook his head when she began tracing light patterns over his wrist.

”You don’t have to do that,” he said, strained.

”Do what?”

” _Comfort_ me. As if I wasn’t...” He shook his head stiffly. “This is about you.”

”I can worry about both of us at once. I’m sure you can, too.” She couldn't simply leave it at that. She sighed and pulled back a fraction, just enough so she could meet his eyes again. "Didn't you just tell me you knew I wouldn't hurt you? Is it so impossible to believe I feel the same way?"

"The things I've done..."

"Are in the past." She shook her head. "It isn't my place to...forgive you on behalf of anyone else. But that isn't _you_ any longer. You've changed, you've grown, and the man you are _now_ matters."

Evelyn couldn't tell if the long silence that followed from him was skeptical or contemplative.

They would have to accept one another's reassurances eventually, but, in the meantime, her mind was thoroughly drained. She shifted at his side, blinking rapidly to stay awake.

"Would you mind staying tonight?" she asked abruptly, "Just to sleep? I can take the couch, if that's more comfortable for you."

He chuckled warmly. "I doubt I'll be able to sleep any time soon, and I wouldn't dream of stealing your bed. But, if it helps--"

"It does."

"--then I'm happy to keep you company."

Evelyn didn't bother changing into her nightclothes, but she did take the time to retrieve an armful of books he might like from her shelves to pile on the nightstand. Perhaps that would keep him occupied if she drifted off mid-sentence. She returned to find he had already turned down the heavy blankets and sat against the headboard. She took the invitation gladly, crawling back beneath the covers and smiling when he drew them back over her as she settled.

"I would have brought the chess board," she murmured, eyes closed, "But I'm fairly certain we'd just knock it over like this."

"That may be the only way I'd win against you. Might be worth trying one of these days."

"Where do we stand...twenty to none at this point?"

He scoffed and rested his hand on her shoulder, running it across her back. "We _did_ draw once."

"Because we couldn't finish before I left for the Emprise, of course." She yawned and inched closer to him. "Not sure that's worth boasting over."

He softly tucked a stray fall of hair behind her ear, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke, "I'll have to accept my defeat with dignity, then."

She hummed contentedly. "As usual."

Exhaustion crept over Evelyn again, stealing any further response from her mind. Safety was a balm more potent than any sleeping potion, she thought, and it wasn’t long before she drifted peacefully into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t find any evidence that matches exist in the DA universe, so flint it is. And since I just speed-ran Last Court, and I did find a line that had someone looking for flint and steel there too. Ha! My instincts and nominal research prove their usefulness!
> 
> This was a hard one to keep to a single POV. SO much Cullen stuff going on solely in his head that I wish I could make clearer, but can’t without making this a two-parter.
> 
> All in all, I wanted to make sure and write more stories addressing this part of their dynamic together. The way I see it, they have a lot of shared trauma from the same ultimate source: the Chantry and Circles. They were both brainwashed from an early age to believe the Circles were necessary, that they kept people safe, and that mages couldn't safely be treated the same as non-mages. Suffice it to say, my view is that the Circles operated like a cult, and those who leave need to be deprogrammed from it.
> 
> The hardest thing for me as a writer is keeping the discussion balanced; when one of them is having a difficult time with their past trauma, the other's past trauma naturally comes out as well. There's a danger of setting one person's experience aside in favor of the other's, rather than sharing both so they can grow and move on together.
> 
> At any rate, now that I have some of the more serious things set on the stage for them, I can get something fluffier in the works (although I couldn’t resist adding a tiiiiny bit of fluff at the end here)!


End file.
